


Absolutely Not

by Curlsandcollege



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Children, F/M, Friendship, Married Couples, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, Minor Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro, Post AM, Post canon, baggage, crest baggage, dancer costume, fantasies, parenting, sexy bets, that old faerghus repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlsandcollege/pseuds/Curlsandcollege
Summary: Felix bets Annette that he can keep his cool with Sylvain for an entire council weekend. He’s half expecting to lose, though the prize is highly enticing. Sylvain is his best friend, but he's also the biggest fool in Fodlan.The problem is he never expected Dimitri to propose outlawing crest testing out of the blue. Even worse, he didn’t expect Sylvain to be opposed to the measure.“I have no reason to verbally fight with him. We’re not children anymore.”“Felix, love of my life, the baby was better behaved than you at Sylvain’s birthday.”“That’s not my fault!"
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60
Collections: That Old Faerghus Repression





	Absolutely Not

The night before their departure to Fhirdiad, Felix made a small bet with his wife about what would trigger his first fight with Sylvain.  
  
The bet was a strategic error on Annette’s part from its conception. She had no control over the outcome other than her prediction, meaning Felix would absolutely win as long as he could hold his temper. He just couldn’t get mad about the implication that Felix had become soft from too much Duke-ing and not enough Dueling. When he pointed out her error Annette pursed her lips thoughtfully and cuddled closer into his side. She laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder, working through a thought on his skin.  
  
“First, you’re assuming you will hold your temper when he makes that joke again. Your victory is definitely _not_ assured. I will specify that you can’t storm off, that counts as losing your cool.” Annette placed another kiss over one of his scars, she knew it was a more sensitive and shivery one, and Felix tried very hard not to interrupt their banter by just flipping them over and going for it. 

Felix considered her taunt and rolled his eyes, she had such little faith in his ability to control himself for a win, “Sylvain says there hasn’t been a single Sreng raid in over a year, I bet he hasn’t so much as lifted a lance in just as long. I’ll just challenge him and defeat him. I have no reason to verbally fight with him. We’re not children anymore.”  
  
“Felix, love of my life, Louisa was better behaved than you at Sylvain’s birthday.”  
  
“That’s not my fault! Sylvain was particularly obnoxious. The power has gone to his head. We never should have let him inherit. I should have made some kind of claim against him, for the good of Fodlan. What’s a few thousand extra cows and a border on top of what we already manage in Fraldarius?” 

Annette had, recently, confided in Mercedes that Felix was becoming more dramatic with age. Mercedes gave her one long look and noted offhandedly, “Well, they do say married couples grow more like each other as the years pass.”  
  
Which is to say, Annette too understood a best friend who knew just how to get under your skin. But they were edging on thirty, they were parents now. Shouldn’t they be acting more… Nobily? Dignified? There was simply no reason that Felix and Sylvain needed to get into some kind of awful screaming match every single time they were together. 

“Fine Felix, let’s renegotiate the bet.”  
  
“Why would I renegotiate? My victory is nearly guaranteed.” Felix folded his arms behind his head confidently.  
  
“Don’t you want a challenge?” Annette asked sweetly, planting another kiss at the hollow of his throat.  
  
“No.” Felix smirked, feeling Annette gasp in mock shock. She ran her fingers over his chest which felt quite nice, but he refused to budge. He knew that proper stakes could be had- it would keep things interesting. 

Annette adjusted her position, moving over him and straddling his waist, staring at him with a spark of fire in her eye. “Felix, if you take my new bet, and you win, I’ll make it worth your while.”  
  
Felix raised an eyebrow. Worth his while sounded fun.  
  
“You have my attention.” 

“I bet you can’t hold your temper with Sylvain for the entire weekend. No rising to his challenges at all, no dueling, no storming off. You have to let every attempt to rile you up fail miserably.”  
  
In all likelihood, no. He couldn’t. He didn’t have Annette’s patience with Sylvian. He’d wasted it in the first seventeen years of friendship, and Sylvain knew him too well. He took too much joy in making Felix uncomfortable in new and unique ways.  
  
“I will go to the knight’s hall in the Fhirdiad Palace and I will train there, if Sylvain joins that does not count as a loss for me. What would be my prize for my incredible self restraint?”  
  
Annette nodded, “That’s a fair condition. And if you can do it, I’ll sing any song you want every day for a week.” 

Felix frowned but reached for Annette’s hips, pulling her nightgown up from where it was pooling around her legs. Singing was nice and all, one of his favorite things even now, but his thoughts for incentives were a bit different at the moment.   
  
“If I’m around to put Louisa to bed I can hear you sing every day anyway. You’ll have to do better than that. It’s a lot of restraint. It’s Sylvain.” 

Annette sighed, and laced her hands over his, stopping his movements in his tracks with a shockingly strong grip.  
  
“You know… I found my old dancer costume from Garreg Mach the last time we visited my parents.” 

Felix swallowed. “Oh?” He’d had far too many incredibly detailed fantasies about that costume in his adolescence. Something that he thought he kept hidden well but Annette did always see right through him and he’d blushed far too easily and often as a youth. And now.  
  
“It still fits mostly, a little too small in the chest now which makes me look slightly ridiculous.”  
  
“I bet it doesn’t,” Felix murmured, trying very hard to not imagine what that would look like and mostly failing.  
  
“If you win you can be the judge of that.” Annette smiled darkly with implication.  
  
Felix generally loved how cunningly smart his wife was, but in this moment, he felt his affection grow tenfold. Amongst other things.  
  
He’d see that costume. 

* * *

King Dimitri Bladdiyd, The Savior King, ruler of Faerghus and Fodlan, had suddenly become bold.  
  
Felix could appreciate it, even if he wasn’t sure where it came from. Felix had been dragged through too much nonsense in the past several years out of Dimitri’s unwillingness to offend the Faerghus court too badly. Half his job as the _Shield of Faerghus_ was reminding Dimitri he was King and had the authority to fix things by making demands and decrees. 

Dimitri stuck to fairly bland, uninteresting goals in the past. Get supply lines back running. Utilize the new unification of the country to have more open trade. Set up a formal system of orphanages in every territory and have there be actual standards for the care and education of the children there. Help those whose territories or farms or towns were ruined get back on their feet. Utilize the Almyran farming techniques that the Galatea’s introduced to Fodlan to help arid or poor land be more prosperous. 

It was difficult for a Lord to openly disagree with an order to grow more food. It had become politically messy to openly state the impoverished were not your priority. Small improvements, incremental. 

  
But this new idea was downright scandalous. 

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, you could very easily have revolt on your hands if you do this. Some would consider this deeply sacrilegious.” Lorenz, today’s representative from the Alliance, looked like he was just moments from fainting.  
  
“I’ve already discussed it with the Archbishop and I have her full support. She has agreed to partner with me on this as well.” Dimitri passed around a parchment letter indicating as much.  
  
The energy in the room lurched as everyone studied Dimitri, half demanding explanations while the more shrewd members of council put the pieces together.  
  
Sylvain gasped and grabbed for Felix with one hand on his shoulder, a look of utter shock on his face.  
  
Wait… Was she? She’d refused to train with him the last time she visited, even though Felix had been looking forward to crossing blades with her. She’d never refused him before.  
  
“She is due at a similar time to Marianne. We will refuse to test our children together and issue a joint decree.” Dimitri elaborated, as if what he was saying was not madness. 

This was just the small council, clustered around a round table in a well lit room in Fhirdiad palace rather than a grander gathering of the rulers of Fodlan. Dimitri had called upon his inner circle and most trusted advisors, beckoning them to Fhirdiad saying he wanted to discuss a new policy idea.  
  
Felix assumed it would be another boring affair where Dimitri was second guessing something basic and useful, but wanted a handful of other opinions before he enacted it, given he was dealing with three different political structures all forced into one.   
  
Today’s meeting consisted of himself, naysayer and practical. Sylvain, politically bold and shrewd but well versed in every last dynamic of the old guard. Ferdinand, running nearly every inch of the Old Adrestia as its Governor and, loathe as Felix was to admit it, probably the keenest political mind of all of them. Lorenz, representing the former Alliance, deeply invested in keeping the peace but unafraid to disagree loudly. 

Felix wasn’t one to play political games or to speculate. Frankly, he spent most of the time as an advisor telling Dimitri to stop caring about what others thought and just do the thing that made sense.  
  
But this… Did it make any sense to just not test the newest Bladdiyd?  
  
Sylvain cleared his throat and smiled sharply, “I guess congratulations are due then to the Professor. But you do realize this is potentially a very dangerous decision? Dimitri, in your future child’s case, it could be literally dangerous. And pointless.”  
  
Felix’s stomach soured “Shouldn’t you want this? Didn’t you once say it was the professor’s greatest privilege to not know she was crested until adulthood?” 

Sylvain laughed bitterly, “You’re unleashing a whole can of worms with this. You don’t even realize what you’re about to do.” 

Dimitri considered for a long moment, “I am not making it illegal to test at all Sylvain. Just illegal to test a child before they come of age. And I realize that eventually crests reveal themselves one way or another. If my future child has a crest of Bladdiyd I imagine we would know very quickly when they broke every last toy they were given.” 

Everyone’s eyes fell to the center of the table, where Dimitri’s pile of shattered pens grew ever larger, an awkward monument to his monstrous strength. An inside joke between the four childhood friends, though Ingrid was off doing something _knightly_ and apparently _top secret_ with Claude. Khalid. Whatever. He wondered if she knew what Dimitri’s plan was? 

Dimitri continued, “If they had Marianne’s crest, we would likely learn when the child was a bit older. If they were crestless, then they would discover that in time. But I believe that it may be for the best interest of the children, and perhaps moving towards a world in which crests were less influential, to stop making it compulsory and to stop testing at birth.”  
  
Felix watched the exchange quietly. Not testing children for crests? The king, and apparently archbishop being the first to do so. Crazy. To what end?   
  
Sylvain fumed but let out a shaky breath into what he probably thought was a laugh. Ferdinand frowned, but worked through his thought saying,  
  
“If you chose to do this, and I will say I disagree with the notion, there are simple ways to achieve your goals without putting a law on books. Preventing testing infants will not stop it from happening of course. You could stop giving funding to the school of sorcery to subsidize testing. Crest testers are well paid because few want to do the job, and previously all three countries helped offset that cost. It is allegedly not a very interesting profession for a mage, many of those who carry out the work complain about the travel and the unpleasantness of the task. Far too many nobles would like to stab the messenger as it were. It would not be hard to make it more difficult to have testing done. Expensive and time consuming as well.” 

“My love, are you implying that you’d cut funding to my dear Alma Matter?” Lorenz was aghast.  
  
“No, simply to put funding towards other endeavors. The magical arts are quite important, even in peacetime.” 

Lorenz gently held Ferdinand’s hand and kissed it, the moment theoretically sweet though their flirting always drove Felix crazy. He preferred when Holst attended these meetings for the Alliance. He was meaner, better in a fight too.

“Boar, professor, can’t you just not test? No need to make a statement or change anything. Half the idiots in Fodlan will follow suit just because you’re doing it.” Felix felt like that solution was obvious, why were people fighting about testing or not, laws, or cutting funding. Just do it and be done.  
  
Sylvain shook his head, half laughing at Felix’s suggestion, “If it were about wearing blue on founding day maybe,” His eyes darkened, and he suddenly looked more like his terrible father than Felix would ever admit, “Everyone will just assume the children are crestless and the families are trying to hide it. You do have to make a statement- and it needs to be good. Because if I’m not convinced, imagine what the throat cutters will do.”  
  


* * *

Sylvain, as it turned out, needed very little convincing to train after the council ended. He was still angry in the scary Sylvain way where he was laughing and smiling but one small push would set him off. He’d turn cold and cruel at the drop of a hat.  
  
Felix steeled himself, knowing that in addition to their spar he’d need to avoid another fight. Something was coming. Something awful. Sylvain bubbled and boiled over, he always had.  
  
The knights hall in Fhirdiad was resplendent, well decorated with grand tapestries, and keenly maintained with a hard packed dirt floor that was never muddy or full of holes the way the Garreg Mach training ground always seemed to be. It was always one of Felix’s favorite places to train. Something about the way Sylvain moved made weapon selection feel like a life or death decision rather than which dulled sword or spear would be best to work off steam. 

Felix didn’t bring up the council at all. He worked off the energy built up sitting too long by swinging his dulled sword right at his best friend. Sylvain jumped, bringing his lance up sharply, forcing Felix to dodge and reposition.  
  
“I expected you’d slow down with peace and all. I’m impressed.” Felix complimented, swinging again, hoping to force Sylvain to his left, his weaker slower side. 

“Dorothea said I was getting lazy and that it was a bad look.” Sylvain laughed, knowing Felix’s strategies too well and trying again to use the tip of his weapon to disarm Felix. 

Felix could always appreciate Dorothea’s ability to keep Sylvain in line, but given their mutual hatred of battle that information was a surprise. Why would she not want him to get lazy... ?  
  
“She wants you to train for the aesthetics?” Felix rolled away from a direct jab, trying to get behind Sylvain for the advantage.  
  
“So I stay fit and handsome, yes. Her words.” Sylvain tried to trip him on his way up, but Felix had the upper hand and kicked his knee out, forcing Sylvain down. 

“Yield.” Felix said calmly. Keeping his cool. Training did not count as fighting. 

Sylvain threw his lance to the side, raising his hands in defeat, “Fine fine, good job. I know you complain about not having enough time to train but you’re still excellent at this, my reach should really give me the advantage here.”  
  
Felix reached a hand out and helped him up. “I know how to counter a lance Sylvain. I grew up a swordsman in Faerghus.” 

“No no I mean my reach,” He held his arms out widely, “You’re surprisingly not grouchy today. I know you prefer Holst to Lorenz at these things.”  
  
Felix cocked his head to the side.  
  
“I prefer Holst’s practicality to Lorenz’s… Lorenzing. And he and Ferdinand are still flirting like newlyweds and it’s getting on my nerves.” 

Sylvain smirked, brushing dirt off his trousers while so casually saying, “Oh I always thought you preferred Holst so you didn’t have to be the shortest man on small council by half a foot.” 

Annette had too much faith in Sylvains’s creativity. _This_ was the fight he was trying to pick?  
  
Felix rolled his eyes, “Say that to Holst next time he’s at council. I dare you. I’d like to watch him kick your ass. All five and a half of feet of him.”  
  
Sylvain threw his head back in laughter, clearly not expecting Felix’s amused response.  
  
“If you want to rile me up Sylvain you’ll have to try harder than that. You’re getting soft in your old age.” 

“Not as soft as Dimitri. What a damned mess that’s about to be.” 

So he did want to talk about it. Okay. Fine. Felix couldn’t help being curious about Sylvain’s opinion. His confusion hadn’t laxed, if anyone in Fodlan was going to be absolutely in favor of this, he’d expect it to be Sylvain.  
  
“Maybe I’m stupid and missing something but what’s such a mess about it? If you want your kids tested you’ll have the ability to do it. Hell, Linhardt tested both your kids didn’t he?”  
  
Sylvain stared at him in disbelief. “You think I want to test my children?” 

“No which is why I’m confused.” 

“Felix I don’t give a shit what anyone does. A world without crests genuinely sounds great except it can’t be done by just _saying_ they’re not important any more. Are the rules of succession changing? Are we suddenly locking up relics? What about when crests inevitably reveal themselves? It’s not that simple.” 

“You said you’d change the rules in Gautier yourself when you inherited. You said oldest son, crest or not, from now on. Did you forget?” 

Sylvain dropped heavily onto a bench. He pulled off his gloves and laid them on the bench neatly, adjusting them until they were perfectly aligned.  
  
“Louisa has a crest, doesn’t she?” Sylvain asked quietly between sips of his waterskin.   
  
Odd question. Sylvain surely knew the answer. Felix played along.  
  
“Yes. Minor Fradalrius. I thought you knew.”  
  
“Oh I do. So, picture this. Everyone stops testing their kids for crests immediately at once. Our lovely age of peace really lasts because we’re not fighting two border wars anymore with Sreng or Almyra and Brigid seems happy to be allied and independent. What happens?”  
  
Felix had no clue where Sylvain was going with this. “You tell me.”  
  
Sylvain looked at him as if he were a small, not particularly smart child and explained slowly. “We won’t know who does or doesn’t have crests. Sure, there will be rumors, but no guarantees. You learn in a war who has a crest, it’s how Marianne got found out. But just regular skirmishes, in school, in training? There’d be unconfirmed accounts but no one would know. There’d be too much incentive to lie. It’s not like everyone’s going to suddenly stop caring.” 

Felix’s eyes narrowed. Sylvain was telling the truth certainly, but legislation being ineffective didn’t usually earn his ire like this. Felix put his sword back on the rack and asked, knowing he’d hate the answer, “What does this have to do with Louisa?” 

“Your daughter, the one known, guaranteed crested noble lady of her generation becomes the continent's hottest bachelorette because she’s a sure thing.” 

What an insane idea, and wrong. Felix took a deep breath, not liking the implication but knowing he had to stay calm. Not only because this was a stupid thing to fight about and Sylvain seemed on a bow string edge from losing it, but because the walls had ears and Annette would know if they fought. 

“She’s not going to be the only one. Other women will have crests. It’s not like our class at Garreg Mach are the only crested nobles or families on the continent. I know Gautier only has one crested line but I have three cousins with crests. Annette has a few too.”  
  
“But Louisa is last. We’ve got what, five months until Marianne has a child? Less? How many crested women are going to be born and tested in that time? She’s about to become the single most important, eligible woman for a decade, maybe more.”  
  
“She’s three Sylvain.” Felix deadpanned.  
  
Sylvain didn’t have a response to that, he simply looked up towards the ceiling and ran his hand through his hair, pulling a little.  
  
A surefire sign he was upset.  
  
Oh.  
  
Sylvain was often a confusing mess of contradictions, even now. But there was one very solid constant with him. Felix ducked his head to the side, trying to find the right words. He sucked at this kind of thing. Truth. People.  
  
“You’re worried that whatever happened to you will be ten times worse for Andres because confirmed crests will be rarer?”  
  
Sylvain nodded solemnly.  
  
“You can protect him from that you know.” 

Sylvain shuddered a breath, “You sound like Dorothea. I can’t really. I try not to treat him and Max differently but the world doesn’t give a shit about that.” 

Felix didn’t have an answer to that either. What was he supposed to say? If Andres grew up to be a prickly asshole people might leave him alone? That Sylvain brought some of the misery of his youth onto himself by courting attention? That Felix knew he’d never understand the depths of what happened to Sylvain as a kid because Sylvain refused to talk about it even now out of some gross desire to protect Felix’s feelings?  
  
What would that solve? Nothing. So Felix remained calm, did not start a fight, and sat with his best friend while he angrily simmered.  
  
Eventually, Sylvain spoke up again as they began resetting their equipment. 

“You have any idea what Yuri’s crest is?” Sylvain asked.  
  
Felix shook his head. “I always assumed it was a Saint’s crest. Indech or something, I think he grew up near Bernadetta. They knew each other as kids.” 

“Saints crests aren’t tied to families so closely like Elite’s crests are. So Indech is possible but no more likely. But why don’t we know?”  
  
“His father wouldn’t claim him because he was a bastard I guess?”  
  
“Nah, if he’s an Adestian bastard that wouldn’t have mattered. Family would have claimed him the second they knew he was crested. Trust me. And house Rowe never had a crest either. I don’t know what crest Marianne has either, but you heard Dimitri say it, she definitely has one. I assumed it was just a rumor.”  
  
Felix stayed quiet, letting Sylvain work through his conspiracy. At least he wasn’t talking about their children and their apparent… desirability anymore.  
  
“So they’re hiding something, right? Like it’s their prerogative. Half of Fodlan probably doesn’t even realize Byleth is married, they like their privacy. But that’s why they’re doing this right?”

“Or they want to live in a world with less emphasis on crests and intend to lead by example.” Felix rolled his eyes. Why the questions? People were allowed to have private lives. Felix would love to have one. 

Sylvain gave one of his long suffering looks, “If only that were true.”

* * *

Dedue and Mercedes quarters were perhaps the most inviting rooms within Fhirdiad palace. Bold tapestries decorated the walls rather than standard Faerghus blue, and every surface had something knitted, crocheted, or needlepointed. The windows had clusters of Duscurian plants crowding the sills. They’d created a cozy cottage within their allotted rooms, one could barely tell they were in the palace if not for the room viewing the gardens.  
  
This made more sense than a stuffy official dinner. Between the four couples there were too many children who weren’t yet old enough to sit through a function, but everyone was far too eager to actually be together to split into more child-friendly separate dinners.  
  
Mercedes bustled around the sitting room, handing out bowls of some kind of hearty red streaked soup that smelled enticingly spiced. Felix thanked Mercedes and passed the bowl to Annette. He hated being served first, this was casual. This was friends. Protocol was not needed here. Mercedes paused and swiped a bowl out of Annette’s hands. “She won’t like that, you won’t like what I made for her. But I appreciate your sweetness.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” Felix murmured as Annette laughed through her thanks.  
  
Dedue entered with his son behind holding another tray, this one full of paler, blander fare. He spoke quietly to Bassel, who ran off to join where Louisa was playing with Sylvain’s sons.  
  
He always felt odd when he watched Dedue with his family. It was almost nice, seeing him so obviously devoted to his son, kneeling down to talk to him at eye level. Was that a Duscur thing? A Mercedes thing about treating people like equals? Bassel was the best behaved of all of their children by a league, and surely the extra year did not add so much more maturity. Felix could hope, but it seemed unlikely. 

The first time he watched Dedue stop attending to Dimitri to help Bassel, who was two at the time and impatient and Mercedes was there to help but no, Dedue handled it instead, Felix nearly fell out of his chair. Felix never believed that anything could break Dedue’s blind devotion to Dimitri. Nothing else, no one else could ever come first. He liked it, it was better this way. It made him feel guilty about things he once said. Things he believed and criticized and he was so awful in school but what was he supposed to do about that, it was a decade ago? 

“I am so very glad we can all be together like this,” Mercedes started, taking a seat on a sturdy carved bench, tipping her bowl up to her mouth. 

“I agree. May we have many happy gatherings over the years.” Dimitri held his bowl up in an approximation of a toast and Felix watched as everyone joined in.  
  
“Soup toast?” Felix asked skeptically.  
  
“There are children present Felix, and it’s bad luck to toast with water.” Dorothea challenged.  
  
Felix turned over to look at the children, all ignoring their dinners. Louisa was braiding Andres bangs out of his face while Bassil distracted Maxence with crocheted bears. All perfectly amused and happy to see their friends and fully uninterested in anything any adult in the room might do. Felix could draw his sword and slice through the entire platter of fruit on the table and they’d be none the wiser.  
  
“Yes they are very impressionable, and definitely paying attention.” Felix said with an eyeroll.

Annette elbowed him in the side at his sarcastic jab, and Felix gave her one annoyed look then raised his bowl just to get the stupidity out of the way.  
  


Dinner resumed. Chatter about Marianne’s health blended into Dorothea’s plans for a proper concert hall in Gautier which Felix couldn’t help but get excited for- not having to travel all the way to Enbarr for proper opera sounded incredible. 

An offhand statement about how the unseasoned stew was the only thing Marianne could eat for the first few months of her pregnancy quickly turned into Dorothea speaking about how Maxence and Andres were completely unwilling to eat anything spicy or seasoned at all and she regretted having Faerghan sons.   
  
In fact, any time the conversation swayed towards Marianne or Byleth, Dorothea would expertly change the topic to something else. As if she simply did not want that to be discussed.  
  
The dinner remained light, and Felix wondered idly if anyone else noticed what Dorothea was doing. He studied Sylvain’s face, painted into a level of jolly contentment as he gesticulated wildly explaining how Dorothea was terribly afraid of cattle. This scandalized Marianne who insisted “Cows are sweet and gentle. They’re wonderful beasts. You simply need exposure from a young age.” 

“Oh you think some things need to be discovered as a child?” Sylvain asked sweetly. 

Felix felt Annette’s hand grip his thigh. He’d recounted his weird conversation with Sylvain to her earlier and she’d been warm and proud of him for letting Sylvain say his peace without getting angry. One step closer to winning his unwinnable bet. 

“Oh well, I suppose many things should be if possible. I saw so little of the world before I grew up.” Marinanne’s expression was almost wistful, and she looked into Dimitri’s eye and the moment was so sweet and almost tender that Felix felt the need to gag. He could understand the desire to be cozy with one’s wife, but Annette was adorable and he was at least tolerable. 

“Yes, because they’re appreciating the wonderful culture of Fhirdiad right now. The finest beds the kingdom has to offer” Mercedes joked quietly, gesturing over to where all four children were sleeping haphazardly strewn across the floor. 

Dedue chuckled softly, “I did notice it was quiet.” 

Felix couldn’t help the shock of nostalgia that struck him through the chest like lightning. A hazy memory of the king’s study at a ball over twenty years ago crept in. Dimitri always snuggled into Glenn, who was absolutely old enough to be expected to attend but would rather watch over the four of them. Sylvain insisted on sleeping between himself and Ingrid which was good to start because even as a child he was always blazingly warm, but turned sour quickly because he tossed and turned violently. It was always uncomfortable and overly close, but fond and nice For how many generations had Bladdiyds and Fraldariuses and Gautiers and Galateas been forced to find rest in any quiet corner they could while more superficial connections were made? Connections over wine or war that would never run as deep as the connections formed while trying to get your best friend to stop making your arm numb because he was older and bigger and trapped you accidentally in a fitful roll.

He hoped things would go better for the children on the floor. An easier life, no tragedies or wars or broken promises. He’d even allow for a little blonde Bladdiyd to join the pile when they were big enough. Maybe they’d stay sweet and noble if the adults kept things going smoothy. Maybe they’d be a great ruler if they actually built something more functional and fair out of the ruins of a continent. 

Felix would like that, let his heart catch in his chest in a fondness that was becoming more and more familiar to him every day he was a father. 

“Oh man that is cute!” Sylvain piped up, louder than strictly necessary with an edge to his voice that sounded half dangerous. 

Felix felt his hair stand on edge. _Do not let him pick a fight_. _Annette. Costume._

“It’s sweetly familiar don’t you think?” Dimitri said, half smiling at the image.  
  
“It reminds me of Glenn and Ingrid you know?”

  
Felix frowned as Dimitri spoke, “Yes, I will have to tell Ingrid about this when she returns. You see we often ended up in similar positions when we were children.” Dimitri explained.  
  
“Nah maybe you were too little to remember but every single time our parents found us like that Duke Fradalrius would turn to Count Galatea and say, ‘See, they have such comfort in each other, such trust. It will be a fine match.’ You two don’t remember that?” Sylvain’s face read with a fond nostalgia but his eyes burned dangerously. Dorothea reached to place her hand on his shoulder but he rose, pushing her off. 

  
“I am afraid I don’t. Differences in age smooth out over time, perhaps I was simply too young to remember. My memory of those nights end tucked into bed with dirty clothes.” Dimitri laughed softly. 

Sylvain loomed over the children and then turned to Felix with a grin, “You know what? We should try to recapture some of that, shouldn’t we?” 

Felix gritted his teeth and hissed out a breath. Sylvain was on something dangerous, acting out, trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn’t allow it.  
  
“Sylvain much as you may have nostalgia for those times, I have grown to prefer a bed and my wife over the floor and my friends.” Felix said calmly.  
  
Dimitri hid a laugh poorly, pressing his mouth to Marianne’s hair. 

“Nah nah I don’t mean us. I mean, look, Andres is going to be heir one day, and let's be honest, Louisa isn’t going to inherit as long as you have a son which hey, you’re young, you’ve got time, so… Why not? Not the worst thing in the world.”  
  
Felix could name about ten possibilities that would be better futures for his daughter than marrying into Gautier but he held his tongue. He looked at Dorothea for help, but she just crossed her arms and stared at her husband, seemingly resolved to let him get whatever weird mood he was in out of his system.  
  
“Absolutely not. Sylvain my daughter is three years old and I don’t intend to make any marital decisions for her tonight.” Felix explained as calmly as he could.  
  
“Oh you mean you’re waiting to see if their Royal Majesties have a son first? I’ve never known you to social climb, I thought you were satisfied with your position.” Sylvain laughed bitterly as he shocked his friends into silence.  
  
Long seconds ticked as everyone looked anywhere but Sylvain, who had begun to pace the length of the room with a nervous energy.  
  
“No I get it, I wouldn’t trust any woman with a son of mine even though I’m _trying_ okay. I’m trying to make his life easier than mine was, but no, let’s have him be valued so highly with his little confirmed crest and his inheritance assured. That’s fine. Revolution always comes a moment too late, doesn't it? Gotta get a little frostbite before you’re rescued, just so you’ll always remember how bad it was on the mountain.” 

“Sylvain you are being ridiculous. Calm down.” Felix warned, wanting so badly to yell or throw a punch or any of the other thousand mechanisms he’d learned over the years for dealing with Sylvain because when he was in this mood he’d spew until his venom drowned the world.  
  
Annette squeezed his hand, was that a warning to keep calm? He was. Couldn’t she see that he was doing everything in his power to stay calm?  
  
“And I guess a daughter is easier in this case anyway, because it’ll just be her crest people are going after instead of a title and all that comes with that. Lucky Felix. Lucky Louisa.”  
  
Felix stared directly into Sylvain’s wild face, stating calmly, “If a betrothal is your way of protecting your son Sylvain that’s fine, but I want nothing to do with it. My child will be fine, crest or not.”  
  
“Oh fine! I should have predicted you’d take his side and defend him, even at the cost of your own family. Typical Fraldarius, sacrificing anything and everything to further the Blaiddyd agenda. I should have known you would throw yourself in front of a sword one day.”  
  
Time stopped with the remark. Felix watched, his senses keen and sharp as they were on a battlefield. In nearly slow motion Dedue frowned and went to intervene, Mercedes stopped him gently with a shake of her head. Dimitri gaped and tears formed at the corners of Marianne’s eyes, guilt rolling off the both of them. Dorothea paled and looked out the window, ashamed. Annette squeezed his thigh again. 

This was Sylvain’s cruelest jab in perhaps their entire friendship. Dirty. Hitting Felix exactly where his anger resided. Breaking open an unspoken barrier, a place no one dare approach even as a joke. 

Felix should have roared, decked him, cast his first lightning spell in years. But he didn’t feel anger. That well ran dry. For all Sylvain knew Felix’s sensitivities, the familiarity was mutual.  
  
Felix wasn’t angry at Sylvain. He pitied him. For all the hurt and issues he’d never resolve even as he gained everything he wanted. Marrying for love, becoming a father, gaining the power to change whatever he wished never stitched Sylvain’s wounds closed.  
  
Sylvain had never received a wound he didn’t want to pay back in kind.  
  
The silence broke and the world came back into time. 

  
“Sylvain stop it! Stop talking about my daughter and your son like you know anything about them or who they’ll be at all! It’s creepy and it’s mean and I know you don’t mean any of it!” 

Annette’s voice was raised louder than any of them had heard in years. That was not Annette who jabbered on about magical tomes or crafted legislation. Not his wife who sang sweetly to their daughter and encouraged him when he was angry or tired or just wanted to throw in the towel and let everyone else govern themselves.  
  
No. This was Annette the mage. Annette’s rally cry. 

“I do mean it. Come on Annette, what’s a little betrothal between two great houses?”  
  
“I don’t like how you talk about my daughter or crests or any of it. Who’s to say she won’t inherit? If we’re changing everything why _shouldn’t_ she be Duchess one day? You’re being awful because of your own feelings and I won’t have it.”  
  


Annette stormed right up to Sylvain, poking him in the chest as she spoke furiously.  
  
Sylvain laughed again. “My feelings Annette? My _feelings_ ?”  
  
They were toe to toe, Sylvain towering over Annette oozing every bit of intimidation he could muster but she refused to stand down.  
  
“Yes. I am sorry your life was hard and people tried to use you. But that’s about you and I am not going to let my daughter get caught in the fire of your stupidity. Grow up.”  
  
Sylvan reared back, snarling in response. Felix knew he should call in reinforcements or call Dorothea or get in the middle but he felt stuck to his seat.  
  
“I should grow up? No. Annette I’m governing and actually thinking about the consequences of Dimitri’s whims and you’re… what? Making up nursery rhymes?”  
  
Annette’s face reddened with her rising anger. He hadn’t seen her like this in years, maybe ever.  
  
“Yes! Fine! I’m making up nursery rhymes. But I’m also governing and researching and guess what? I’m good at all of it. Your pain is not the only important one and if one or two children might get hurt while we fix things then it’s our job to protect them, okay! Do not force everyone else to suffer as you suffer. It won’t make you feel any better! It will just make you bitter and sad and unable to enjoy a nice night with your friends!” Annette yelled, balling her fists with tears of frustration in her eyes.  
  
Sylvain turned heel and stormed off into the hallway.  
  
Dorothea rose from her seat on unsteady legs, turning towards Mercedes quietly, “Can you… if the boys wake up can you tell them we’ll be back in a moment? I should… I’ll go talk to him.” 

The tension lingered as minds whirred in silence.  
  
“I didn’t realize he felt this way.” Dimitri’s face betrayed little of his emotions, but his voice quavered. 

Annette stilled in her spot, breathing heavily. Felix joined her, wrapping an arm around her protectively. She was shaking as anger turned into adrenaline.  
  
“I shouldn’t have done that. He just… He’s so…”  
  
“Difficult? Yes.” Felix said calmly, trying to lead Annette back to her chair so she could breathe and maybe drink something. He knew this feeling. This awful frustration when you didn’t win and didn’t even know where you stood anymore.  
  
“For what it’s worth you’re right Annie.” Mercedes offered.  
  
Annette turned towards her, confused.  
  
“It’s our job to protect them, not make the world worse for everyone else so their lives can be easier.” Mercedes gave Annette a smile. 

* * *

Dinner lurched on awkwardly to dessert and Sylvain and Dorothea didn’t return. Annette simmered next to Felix, trying to rejoin the conservation but her heart didn’t seem in it. She felt heavy, weighed down by the argument.  
  
Time passed and still, the Gautiers were absent. Dimitri and Marianne made their apologies, she was simply too exhausted to stay up any longer.  
  
“I just… Felix I didn’t think about what might happen. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt your family.”  
  
“You aren’t. Sylvain is just… He’s worried for the last few children with confirmed crests. Andres in particular... You know how Sylvain is, he’ll throw himself on the fire to save anyone he cares about. He’s just... We’ll work through the finer points of it- it is clearly important to you. We’ll make it happen.”  
  
Dimitri nodded grimly and made his goodbyes.  
  
Mercedes spoke up, “You can leave too, if you’re tired, we can move the boys to a couch or Bassil’s room. If they don’t come back until morning they’ll wake up somewhere comfortable and at least a little familiar.”  
  
“No it’s fine. We should wait… I should apologize. I didn’t need to yell” Annette folded her arms across her chest.  
  
Dedue eyed them both, but hearing Mercedes plan proceeded to pick up Andres and Maxence and carried them gently into the other room.  
  
Felix rubbed her shoulder, “Are you sure? We’ll see them tomorrow. They’re not leaving for another few days.”  
  
Annette looked up at him, blue eyes watery, “I didn’t think. About him. About… I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk to you that way.” 

Felix nodded and knelt on the floor, lifting and moving Louisa to a more comfortable window seat. Annette hated fighting, unresolved issues of any kind really. She wasn’t used to this long period of stewing that came after a screaming match with a friend. She and Mercedes always seemed to interact peacefully.  
  
“You were defending us. You did the right thing. Sylvain doesn’t stop until someone’s yelling usually.”  
  
“I usually count on you for that. I didn’t realize you were protecting us all this time.”   
  
“You gave me a better option than fighting.” He felt the corners of his mouth turn up and tried to control it. She was upset. This wasn’t about their bet.  
  
Annette gasped and hid a smile behind her hand, “You villain.” 

Mercedes sat up with them, chatting with Annette lightly about children and lesson plans and her work in the Duscur residential district of Fhirdiad which Felix was vaguely aware existed but had never actually visited.  
  
He was starting to ask a question about the food carts when the door cracked open.  
  
Dorothea and Sylvain both looked wrecked. Eyes dark with circles, hair frizzy. Sylvain held Dorothea’s hand with such intensity his knuckles were white.  
  
He drawled out a long, “Hey,” as he entered, barely looking at anyone.  
  
“We weren’t sure you’d come back, the boys are in Bassil’s room. Hold on, let me grab them.” Mercedes skittered off, not giving either of them space to insist they should follow.  
  
Annette gulped one big breath and started, “I’m really sorry for yelling I-”  
  
“No it’s fine. I was an ass. You’re… It’s fine.” Sylvain turned towards Dorothea and added, “I’m sorry too. To both of you.” 

Felix looked at them and wondered what was said over the past hour. Sylvain’s eyes, on inspection, were red rimmed. Dorothea’s too.  
  
“It happened. It’s over now. Thank you for the apology. For what it’s worth, I’m not going to let anything happen to any of our kids. Ever.” Felix felt a sureness as he spoke. A rightness.  
  
“Yeah… I know. I know you won’t. It’s… Yeah. We won’t. I won’t either.” Sylvain seemed exhausted but something resembling positivity was ringing through his statement.  
  
“They will all be fine.” Dorothea reassured, running her thumb over Sylvain’s hand. “They will be loved and secure and not one person is going to let any of them be used as a bargaining chip. Ever. Each of them will forge their own paths and do whatever they wish to do.”  
  
“Regardless of our wishes if they’re anything like their fathers” Annette joked, mood lifting just a bit.  
  
“Goddess forbid.” Felix rolled his eyes. No, Louisa should be all Annette. Brilliant and passionate and kind.  
  
“I agree, and on second thought, Andres and Louisa shouldn’t marry anyway. Gautiers have centuries of being giants and that may be the one legacy I’m unwilling to give up, even for you.” Sylvain’s smile was only half hearted, but it was growing.  
  
Which was the thing about a lifetime of bickering with your best friend. You could scream, hit weak spots, go for the jugular. But in the end, you would still be friends from the floor.

* * *

Sylvain was manic at the next day’s small council. He clearly hadn’t slept, but he had nearly a dozen ideas for how to correctly implement and package a “No testing babies for crests” policy. Ideas that were shockingly consistent and well thought out and covered the gaps that their earlier discussions had left wide open.  
  
“I mean I’ve been thinking about how to do this for years. It was my third greatest fantasy growing up!” Sylvain smiled boyishly, scribbling down yet another idea as he spoke. 

Lorenz cocked an eyebrow, “Dare I ask what one and two were?” 

“So the first, boring border policy and diplomacy with Sreng. But the _second_ has to do with Dorothea and about three of the women in the Blue Lion Dancer battalion…” 

Felix frowned, “Annette’s battalion you mean?”  
  
“I didn’t mean _her._ I mean she was adorable in the uniform and all but you know… Annette’s not… She was…” Sylvain smiled widely at Felix’s increasingly sour expression. “Know what? I’m going to stop talking because there’s no right way to finish that sentence.”  
  
“Correct answer.” Felix grumbled, grateful that he wouldn’t need to stop yet another fight with his friend.  
  
A little validated that apparently the dancer thing was a universal fantasy.  
  
A little disgusted that he shared that fantasy with Sylvain.  
  
A little closer to a future in which it wasn’t necessarily a fantasy at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> The glorious thing about getting older is realizing just how childish everyone seems to stay in their core. If you’ve not yet had the wonderful moment where your brain screams out, “You’re a FATHER!” or “You’re a DOCTOR?” or “They let you teach CHILDREN?” get ready. It’s coming. And it’s truly glorious. Even on the receiving end. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a kudos or comment!


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